


bloodsport

by greatcatsbys



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: '''stress relief''', (he is not in control), M/M, tseng thinks he's in control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:26:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28264623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatcatsbys/pseuds/greatcatsbys
Summary: ‘You’ve chosen a drink you know I like, and music to my taste as well,’ Tseng says, sips his drink delicately. ‘One might think you were trying to impress me.’‘It workin’?’ Reno asks, grins cheek to cheek.Tseng shrugs noncommittally, but a smile creeps to the corners of his mouth.
Relationships: Reno/Tseng (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	bloodsport

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Medilia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medilia/gifts).



> for my shinra discord secret santa!! i really hope you like it, many thanks to blue for sneakily telling me which pairings you were into 
> 
> it is not particularly festive but it is particularly horny, so. tis the season i guess!! 
> 
> (also i made up a generic sounding Festive Holiday for the purposes of this fic, it's certainly not canon or analogous to any specific faiths.)

Reno's hair smells like spent gunpowder, blood on the edges of his cuffs. 

_Another day at the office_ , thinks Tseng.

It’s been a while since Tseng’s seen field work, but with Rude injured and Elena still training in Junon, wheeling Tseng out for the night is the next best thing. Following a rival crime syndicate through the slums of Sector Five feels far too elementary a task for the Turks; however, _if it’s the Don’s business, it’s Shinra’s business_ , Tseng has to tell Reno, much to nobody’s enthusiasm. Reno looks like a taut guitar string, looks as pissed off externally as Tseng feels internally. Still, occasionally a trigger needs to be pulled, and despite his posturing and swearing and complaints, Reno is very good at that part.

Reno likes to go drinking after a kill, and usually, Rude is there to indulge him. Tonight, Reno is stuck with Tseng, for his sins, and sadly Tseng is much less malleable, less easy to persuade with a drawn-out whine. _You can’t ask a man to drink alone, boss_ , Reno says in his best snivel, and Tseng sighs, exhausted. If Tseng is an immovable object, Reno is an unstoppable force, and apparently there is no force on Gaia greater than man’s desire for a night out. _One drink_ , Tseng concedes, no desire to spend any longer in Wall Market than is mandated by his contract. _Consider it a reward for good work._

The lights are as garish as Tseng remembers, the buildings tinged with neon and a smell he associates solely with overusing materia. Reno walks down the street as if he owns the place, Tseng following behind at a reluctant distance. Tseng can think of few other places he’d rather be less on a Saturday night than the bustle of Wall Market; perhaps in a briefing with Heidegger, or cleaning the bathroom at home. _At least somebody’s enjoying themselves_ , he thinks to himself as he watches Reno exchange clandestine handshakes with men twice his size.

Tseng knows little of Reno’s past, but can read between the redacted lines; ex-gang, most likely. In a place like Wall Market, Tseng can only imagine the type of things one has to do to receive a hero’s welcome, and Tseng knows better than to ask. Reno turns down an alleyway and ducks into what looks like an _izakaya_ , and Tseng reluctantly follows suit, knows that drinking with Reno is often a precursor to karaoke, bar fights, or worse. 

The inside of the bar is dingy, and Tseng has the immediate feeling that wearing a three piece suit into this place is a threat in itself. Reno swans in with ease, however, and straddles long limbs over the bar stool, grins at the barkeep with a wolfish grin, and greets him with a saying that immediately piques Tseng’s interest.

‘That’s Wutaian,’ Tseng says, brow furrowed slightly. Reno smiles, and nods.

‘Figured with all the kitsch in this place you’d appreciate somewhere a little more - _authentic_ ,’ Reno says. ‘This place been open longer than I can remember, and I got a long fuckin’ memory.’

Tseng sits on the stool next to Reno, unsure quite what to make of Reno choosing a place for his benefit. Tseng smiles quietly, exchanges a nod with the barkeep and greets him.

‘ _Grace of the Allfather_ ,’ Tseng says, in the tongue he seldom uses. The barkeep smiles, his elderly eyes crinkled up into his cheeks.

‘ _Your accent is terrible, brother,_ ’ the barkeep says, and despite the insult, Tseng cannot help but laugh.

‘ _It’s been a while_ ,’ Tseng says, adjusting his tie. _‘Easy to fall out of practice with these things._ ’

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ Reno interjects, scowling. ‘Didn’t invite you here to flirt with someone who ain’t me.’

‘ _Needy bitch_ ,’ the barkeep says, gesturing at Reno with an exaggerated hand.

‘Hey, Fai, fuck you _bitch_. I _know_ that one,’ Reno says, and Tseng snorts. It makes Reno almost drop his jaw in response, rare that Tseng should be so undignified. ‘Don’t you have drinks to make, or somethin’?’

The bartender smiles, shaking his head at Reno in amusement before turning to fetch some glasses. Reno’s spindly legs dangle from the stool, kicking aimlessly into what Tseng would describe as his personal space. 

‘Me and Fai go way back,’ Reno says, a way to fill the silence. ‘Used to come here all the time as a kid.’

Tseng nods, as if he can ever empathise with the kind of childhood Reno likely had.

‘It’s nice,’ Tseng says. ‘Thank you for bringing me.’

‘No sweat, boss,’ Reno says, winking. ‘Figured if we’re taking you out, we gotta pick somewhere fancy.’

Tseng sighs, shaking his head.

‘I said I would stay for _one drink_ ,’ Tseng says, not unkindly. ‘I don’t think I’ve been on a night out since I was eighteen.’

‘It’s good for the soul,’ Reno says, smiling as Fai turns around with two whiskey highballs for him and Tseng. ‘Didn’t know what you drink, but I guessed.’

‘Good guess,’ Tseng says, takes an approving sip. ‘Is this how you use your intelligence training?’

‘I’m off the clock,’ Reno says, shrugging, and takes a mouthful of his drink. ‘No point tryin’ to read you, anyway.’

Tseng looks at Reno, cat-like, and Reno sees a definite flicker of curiosity.

‘You still guessed right,’ Tseng says. ‘Don’t do yourself a disservice.’

Reno doesn’t quite know what to say to that, never does when Tseng gives him a slither of unsolicited praise. Instead, he sips his drink, slides out of his jacket, wonders if the enjoyment of it shows on his face. An album of greatest hits is playing in the background, quiet below the din of conversation in the warm yellow room, and Reno looks over to the corner absently, where there’s a jukebox, much higher quality than the ones littering the Midgar slums.

‘Might put some tunes on,’ Reno says, nods over to the corner. ‘You want anythin’?’

Tseng shakes his head, and Reno shrugs, heaves off the barstool and shuffles between tables to the jukebox. He stands there for a good while, flicking through different genres on the touchscreen, before he finally commits to one. Reno returns with a shit-eating grin on his face, as the music changes to a slow, smoky jazz number that Tseng would actually _choose_ to listen to. Tseng raises an eyebrow, intrigued, and Reno sits back at the bar, swings his legs back over and sips his drink with a flourish.

‘Interesting choice,’ Tseng says, nodding in approval. 

‘You think?’ Reno asks in a voice that feigns innocence, his eyes mischievous and sparkling. ‘I did good again, huh?’

‘You’ve chosen a drink you know I like, and music to my taste as well,’ Tseng says, sips his drink delicately. ‘One might think you were trying to impress me.’

‘It workin’?’ Reno asks, grins cheek to cheek.

Tseng shrugs noncommittally, but a smile creeps to the corners of his mouth.

'So,' Reno says, lets the last syllable drag. 'You got any time off over All Saints?'

Tseng shakes his head, sips his drink.

'Only the state mandated holiday,' Tseng says. 'Even then, if the Vice President calls -'

'On fuckin' _Saints Day_ ?' Reno says, positively slamming his drink down with indignance. 'Swear to _gods_ , man, if he called me up telling me to drop everything to come pull his head out his ass I'd tell him to fuck off.'

'I'm sure _you_ would,' Tseng says drily. 'However, for people who actually want to keep their jobs, it's a necessary precaution.'

' _Necessary precaution_ ,' Reno mimics in a high pitched voice, and Tseng scowls. 

'Remind me again why I chose you as my deputy?' Tseng says.

'’Cause I speak truth to power,' Reno teases, jutting his chin forward. 'And ‘cause I'm buying this round.'

'That must be it,' Tseng says, an audible sigh in his voice. 'One day, Reno,' he says, gesturing broadly to the circles under his eyes, 'all this will be yours.'

Reno grimaces into his drink.

'Happy fuckin' holidays,' he mutters.

The song ends, the jukebox returning to its usual selection of music, and Reno stretches out like a disgruntled cat. 

'I'm having another,' Reno declares loudly, both to Tseng and to Fai. 'What can I get ya?'

Tseng shakes his head delicately.

'I really shouldn't -'

'Damnit, man,' Reno says, looking Tseng square in the face. 'I don't wanna get personal, ‘aight, but what kinda life you got, man? Always runnin' round here there everywhere for the VP - when's your time to relax? Rude's got his music, I got friends here - shit, even _Laney_ has karate class and she's the only person I know with as much of a stick up her ass as you. What do _you_ got?'

Tseng's eyes are dark with unfathomable irritation, brows furrowed so deeply they almost meet. He could retort that of _course_ he has a life outside Shinra, a well-rounded adult life with his apartment and his car and his plants. Of course Tseng has a social life, of course he has _interests_ \- he has his books, his allotment, and his variety of solitary pursuits that he can drop at a moment’s notice whenever the phone rings.

 _Ah,_ thinks Tseng. Reno hits his mark, and hits it good. For a brief, stomach-curling moment, Tseng feels acutely vulnerable.

'That's hardly an appropriate way to speak to your superior,' Tseng says, instead. It comes out as hollow as he feels.

'Yeah, maybe not,' Reno says, raising his hands in surrender. 'Sorry, boss. I been drinkin'.'

Tseng sighs, feels a sense of guilt at Reno's sudden docile expression. Tentatively, he undoes his cufflinks, loosens his tie a little.

'You can apologise,' Tseng says stiffly, 'by buying me another drink.'

Reno smiles at Tseng like he's about to devour him whole.

The next thing Tseng knows, Reno snaps ferociously into action, pouncing across the bar to present Tseng with a tray of shots, and Tseng grimaces at it as if it may catch fire. Tseng’s tolerance for drink is low, his tolerance for spirits even lower, but there is something in Reno’s enthusiasm that’s infectious, that nestles under Tseng’s skin with a blooming warmth. Ignoring his inner voice to the contrary, Tseng takes a shot, finishes it gingerly, and feels his cheeks flush as Reno positively roars in triumph, slapping Tseng on the back almost hard enough for him to cough the liquor back up.

It doesn’t take long for Tseng to become rough around the edges. His cheeks flush a bright pink against olive skin, his thoughts slower and his voice louder. When Reno suggests going to another bar after this one, he nods in agreement, to his own astonishment. Tseng feels distinctly as if he is watching his own body move independently, ruled by a hedonistic consciousness he doesn’t recognise.

It’s not an unpleasant feeling, to say the least.

The next bar is darker aside from cracked neon, smells like smoke and spilled drinks. Reno makes his way to the bar, skips the queue with confidence and sharp elbows, comes back a moment later with a bottle and two glasses. They drink, exchanging terrible jokes and insults about the Science Research department, and Tseng feels lighter than he has in a long, long time.

Somehow, Tseng finds himself on the small dancefloor, back pressed against sweaty crowds, arms draped around Reno's neck. _Can't leave a man dancing alone, can you?_ Reno says, breath loud against Tseng's ear, and Tseng laughs by way of response, enjoys the warmth of Reno's body against his.

‘Can’t drink alone, can’t dance alone,’ Tseng says, loud over the music. ‘Good thing you work in pairs.’

‘You spend too _much_ time alone,’ Reno says, smirking, hands wandering in the small of Tseng’s back. ‘You ain’t a good judge.’

The bass reverberates in Tseng’s skull, and in front of him is Reno, eyes wide, shirt open. Reno’s eyes are mako-green in the half-light, and Tseng feels an energy between them, sees it coming before Reno even moves. When Reno closes the distance between them, closes his lips against Tseng’s, it feels like an inevitability, like a natural progression of events. Reno is under his skin. He wants to be held, to be taken care of.

Reno breaks the kiss with a shaky exhale, runs a hand through his hair.

‘Fuck, boss,’ Reno says, grinning. ‘Didn’t think you had it in you.’

Tseng stiffens, but Reno’s smile is not unkind. He stays still, allows Reno to kiss him again, a flicker of tongue in Tseng’s mouth. Reno kisses him in a way that feels almost demure, almost respectful, and Tseng smiles quietly, pulls Reno closer to him, firm hands around Reno’s waist.

‘Tseng, tonight,’ Tseng says to Reno, breathy against Reno’s ear. ‘Not your _boss_. Just Tseng.’

Reno grins eagerly, like all his holidays have come at once.

‘Okay,’ Reno says, hands still touching Tseng like he’s made of porcelain. ‘Okay,’ he says again, as if to ground himself, as if to appreciate that this is _happening_ , this is _real_ -

This time, Tseng kisses him back, slowly at first but with a growing intensity, his hands firm against Reno’s hips as Tseng’s tongue is in his mouth, whiskey-warm and needy. Reno moans into the sensation, places delicate hands in Tseng’s hair and tugs lightly, exposes skin beneath Tseng’s collar that Reno has a primal urge to mark. Tseng is musky and warm against Reno, strong angles and stronger hands, and Reno sighs, could lose himself in it all if he didn’t remember what the fuck he’s supposed to be offering.

‘You wanna relax?’ Reno asks, smirking against Tseng’s lips, and Tseng nods brusquely, moves to kiss him again, but Reno is faster, pulls away swiftly.

‘Nuh-uh, _Tseng_ ,’ Reno says, loud against the music, enjoying the feel of it on his tongue. ‘You want me to take you home and fuck you?’

Tseng nods wordlessly, his hair in his eyes.

‘Then say it,’ Reno says, a hand in the small of Tseng’s back, soothing him. To Tseng, it feels like a get out of jail free card, a last escape route if he wants one.

Tseng sighs, and relaxes into the touch. He doesn’t want one.

‘I want you to take me home, and fuck me,’ Tseng says plainly, eyes steely and determined. 

‘Fuck,’ Reno says, eyes wide, every bit as surprised as Tseng is. ‘That’s hot.’

Tseng laughs despite himself.

‘Can we go now?’

‘Yeah, sure, two secs -’

Reno reaches into his pocket for his PHS, summons a private vehicle that greets them outside the bar no later than thirty seconds later. Reno opens the door, positively bounds into the car like a cannonball, Tseng sitting down more delicately after him. The suited driver meets Reno's eyes in the rear view mirror, looking expectantly for instructions.

'Yeah, I wanna go -' Reno says, before shifting clumsily over to Tseng. 'What's your address?'

Tseng huffs a small laugh.

'Maybe your intelligence training _does_ need work,' Tseng says disapprovingly, but recites his address to the driver anyway. Reno grins broadly.

Their hands are on each other in the car, Reno’s hands insistent against Tseng’s thighs, subtle teasing that Reno knows would drive a less disciplined man wild. For Tseng, though, he needs to up the ante, and Reno fiddles with Tseng’s belt buckle, mouthing soft kisses into the base of his neck. Tseng stiffens, his lips pursed in what Reno fears for a moment may be disapproval - but then Tseng exhales sharply through his nose, forcibly quiet, and Reno knows he’s doing good.

The car journey takes an age, and getting to Tseng’s flat an age longer - foot tapping waiting for the elevator, Reno’s hands in the small of Tseng’s back, against the curve of his ass. Eventually, they’re alone, and Reno presses Tseng up against the metal doors of the elevator, kisses him with an intensity that Tseng almost - _almost_ \- appears stunned by. Reno wonders how long they have to go, how long he has to dent Tseng’s composure, if he can make Tseng beg before they even arrive - but then the bell dings, signalling their arrival, and Tseng marches brusquely down the hall as if nothing has happened.

 _Well_ , Reno thinks to himself. _I like a challenge._

The flat is quiet, reasonably empty aside from several plants and a bay window overlooking the city, casting the room in a low purple light. Tseng stands against the window, in silhouette, and Reno pauses, almost as if waiting for permission, even now.

Tseng turns to face Reno, his eyes needy in the half light.

‘Well?’ Tseng says, his voice less even than usual. ‘I thought you wanted to impress me.’

There lies the smirk again, dancing on the edges of Tseng’s features, all the encouragement Reno needs.

Reno pulls Tseng’s jacket off in one fluid motion, undoes his tie just as quickly. His hands are quick against Tseng’s skin, mouth eager against Tseng’s lips, his jaw, his neck, and Reno can barely keep from whispering praise into the crook of Tseng’s shoulder. Reno fists his hands in Tseng’s hair, and _pulls_ , properly pulls, and Tseng makes a noise that Reno will likely remember for the rest of his life.

‘Fuck,’ Reno whispers, in awe, and pulls again, relishing in the staccato-quick moans that Tseng makes before he bites down on his lips to stifle them. ‘Don’t get shy on me now,’ Reno says, bites at the flesh below Tseng’s ear. ‘You want the full fuckin’ package, I gotta hear what you _like_.’

Tseng stares at Reno with a simmering anger, an expression he knows well from Heidegger’s briefings, and for a moment, he half expects Tseng to put him in a headlock. Instead, his face slowly relaxes, and Tseng nods, as if conceding the point.

‘Good,’ Reno says, grinning shark-like. ‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Reno’s hands slip Tseng’s shirt off his shoulders, fumble with the clasp of his belt, and Reno grins as he unzips Tseng’s neatly-tailored trousers, exposing boxer briefs and Tseng’s unmistakably hard cock. Spurred on by Tseng’s arousal, Reno sinks to his knees, breathes warm and heavy against the fabric of Tseng’s underwear, mouthing through dark fabric. Tseng’s breath hitches in his chest, stomach tense, fists clenched, and Reno smirks as he finally peels the fabric down and takes Tseng into his mouth.

The effect it has is immediate. Tseng moans, deep in his chest, head arched back against the window as Reno takes him deeper, hollows his cheeks and caresses Tseng’s head with his tongue. Reno is both attentive and stubborn; does not allow Tseng to set the pace, is deliberately slow and methodical in the way he strokes Tseng’s cock, in the way his tongue teases Tseng down to the hilt. Tseng’s breath is shallow, as his subordinate sucks his cock against the Midgar skyline, and he places a desperate hand on Reno’s shoulder, because he doesn’t want to come, not like _this_ -

‘I got ya,’ Reno says, wiping his mouth with a deliberate showiness. ‘You wanna come with me inside, dont’cha?’

There is an unmistakable flush across Tseng’s cheeks and ears.

‘Please,’ he says quietly, in a low, thrilling voice that immediately makes Reno stand up and pull him over to the entrance of the bedroom, Reno pushing Tseng into the room with a demanding smirk on his face. Reno undoes his own tie, removes his jacket and the little of his shirt actually covering his torso, and pulls Tseng down onto the bed, kisses at Tseng’s toned chest and stomach like it’s god-made flesh. Tseng moans again as Reno pushes Tseng’s boxers down his thighs, palms his cock slowly, and Reno moans too, because _gods_ , those choked cries of affirmation are enough to fuel his ego into the next life. 

Reno takes his hands off Tseng long enough to fish in his pockets for his wallet, picking out a condom and a sachet of lube. Tseng raises his eyebrows, in mock indignance.

‘You carry those with you? On _missions_?’ Tseng says. ‘Awful presumptuous, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Reno says, smirking, stroking Tseng’s cock slowly, unrelenting until he hears Tseng stifle a desperate exhale. ‘Is it?’

‘Gods, you’re _awful_ -’

Tseng sighs against the pillow, hair dishevelled as Reno rolls Tseng over, opens the lube with quick hands. Tseng feels briefly vulnerable again for the hundredth time this evening, splayed out on all fours, ass exposed upwards, but his anxiety all but abates when he feels a slick finger enter him. Tseng’s breath hitches, heat rushing to his head, and he gasps as Reno strokes his free hand through Tseng’s hair, Reno acting with a gentleness that surprises him.

‘Don’t _tease_ , Reno,’ Tseng says sharply. He aims for authoritative, but Reno’s fingers inside him make it come out closer to desperate. Reno’s fingers curl deep inside him, and Tseng cries out, unmistakably loud, and Reno grins in accomplishment.

‘That feel good?’ Reno asks, cockily, pushes against Tseng’s prostate again before he can answer. Tseng’s thighs quake, his strength abating as he aches from being filled up, from not being touched.

‘Reno,’ Tseng chokes out, voice ragged. ‘I _need_ you to fuck me.’

To see Tseng so unashamed, so _needy,_ immediately drives Reno wild.

Reno pushes his cock into Tseng in one slow thrust, Tseng tight and warm around him as Reno moans, holds Tseng’s hips hard to centre himself. Below him is his boss, in a sheen of sweat taking Reno’s cock like he’s born for it, and god, Reno could come just from looking at him -

‘Move, _please_ -’ Tseng begs, his sentence replaced by a wordless cry as Reno thrusts back into him, sets a punishing rhythm that has Tseng crying muffled curses into the pillow. Reno holds Tseng’s hips hard enough to bruise, uses Tseng as he wants, and Tseng positively writhes below him, pushing himself back against Reno, trying to fill himself up even further. Reno swears at the sight, showers Tseng with praise as he pulls Tseng’s hair back - _fuck, I’m not gonna last if you beg like that, you're real fuckin’ dirty_ \- and Tseng tightens around his cock, hits his orgasm with a guttural cry that has Reno clinging to him for dear life. 

‘Boss, _Tseng_ , so fuckin’ good -’

Reno comes inside Tseng with a moan, pulls out delicately against Tseng’s quaking legs. Reno strokes Tseng’s thighs, the small of his back, and Tseng relaxes into the touch, his body slowly collapsing into the mattress, and Reno smiles fondly, ties the condom and _ping_ s it across the room.

‘I have a bin for a _reason_ ,’ Tseng says, muffled against the pillow, but from Tseng’s jittering shoulders Reno can tell he’s laughing.

'Yeah, yeah, you fancy,' Reno says, grinning, reaches across the bed for his jacket, rummages in the pockets for his cigarettes. 'How you doin', boss?'

Tseng rolls over, hair mussed, face sweaty. 

'Certainly more relaxed,' Tseng says, a wide, wan smile on his flushed face. 'So thank you.'

Reno lights his cigarette, takes a drag and flicks his lighter back and forth.

'Live to serve,' Reno says, grinning. 'So. How'd I do?'

‘You want a performance review?’ Tseng says, hums with laughter. ‘Alright then. _Outstanding_ work. Now, if only your commitment to _field work_ was as diligent -’

Reno has a face like a kicked puppy, and Tseng laughs, places a hand on his shoulder.

‘The last part was unkind,’ Tseng says. ‘I'm teasing. I really did have an excellent time.'

'Could say the same,' Reno says, raising his cigarette as a silent _cheers_. 'I'll be thinkin' about you screaming my name every time Scarlet's chatting shit about nuclear power.'

'Loathe as I may be to intrude on your personal life,' Tseng says drily, 'but I'd rather you kept this discreet.'

'Hey, don't worry, boss!' Reno says, indignant. 'I don't kiss and tell.'

'Everyone who works on the sixty-ninth floor knows that's not the case.'

'Alright, alright, no gossip,' Reno says, sits quietly as he smokes a drag of his cigarette. As he exhales, he looks at Tseng with wide, innocent eyes, flutters his long eyelashes.

'Not even Rude?'

'Especially not Rude.'

'Damn,' Reno says, scowling. 'I might've - uh - told him I had intentions to fuck you tonight.'

Tseng raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. His instincts _were_ right then, after all - the faux-Wutaian decor and the jazz was all part of a master plan of seduction.

'And what did Rude say to that?'

Reno looks glumly at the floor.

'Said I had a snowball's chance in hell of getting on that.'

Tseng laughs, fully laughs for the first time all evening, loud enough to ricochet around the room.

'I changed my mind,' Tseng says, smiling broadly. 'You're more than welcome to tell Rude. If he believes you, that is.'

'You're a real asshole, you know that, boss?'

'That's not how you described me mere moments ago.'

'Fuckin' -' Reno laughs, despite himself. 'Yeah, I'll tell Rude you're a needy fuckin' bottom. Can hardly believe it myself.'

'Well,' Tseng says, his features cold, voice swarthy and low, a good pastiche of a film noir villain. 'Well, now I simply have to kill you.'

Reno laughs, opens the window a fraction and flicks his cigarette butt into the world outside.

'You can shower and stay the night if you need,' Tseng says, finally raising himself from the mattress. 'As long as you feel comfortable.'

'Don't worry boss, it ain't weird,' Reno says breezily, and Tseng smiles, feels the last remaining coil of tension uncurl in his stomach. 'I keep it one-hundred, y'know? Pro, always.' 

Reno stands up, stretches out, and saunters over to the bathroom, a deliberate swing in his hips. Before he opens the door, Reno pauses, poses dramatically, looks across the room to face Tseng.

'Besides,' Reno says, winking at Tseng provocatively. 'You were the only member of the team I ain't fucked yet.'

Reno opens the door, humming amusedly as turns the shower on, fills the room with the sound of running water. He waits for a moment, and over the sound of the shower, he can hear two distinct, horrified words from the bedroom.

'Not _Elena_ -’

**Author's Note:**

> elena has been an executive for all of three weeks. insert that 'you fucked my boy, sephiroth?????' meme here
> 
> this was so much fun to write lol i love these gremlins, happy holidays shinra squad you have all been a delight throughout this hell year


End file.
